A Snappy Ice Pun Title
by 4mation-is-1derful
Summary: A collection of AU drabbles centring around our favourite blonde-redhead-couple. They range everywhere from humour to hurt to pretty shameless sex, but they do have one thing in common (Elsanna)


**A Snappy Ice Pun Title**

Title: A Snappy Ice Pun Title

Author: 4mation

Type: One-shot

Rating: T

Genre: AU, Romance, Humour, Angst, Hurt, Comfort, Lime

Warnings: Incest, fem!Slash, Slightly Mature Content

Pairing: Elsanna

Characters: Elsa, Anna

Summary: A collection of AU drabbles centring around our favourite blonde-redhead-couple. They range everywhere from humour to hurt to pretty shameless sex, but they do have one thing in common (Elsanna)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All names mentioned do not represent the true persons. All brand names do not belong to the author. No copyright laws or personal privacy laws are intended to be infringed.

A/N: A collection of AU drabbles for yumi_michiyo, this is a bunch of Elsanna stuff that was tossed around in my brain, but couldn't get fleshed out into a full story. I promise I'll do better next time, yumi!

Also, I personally find my choice of title to be hilarious. So screw you guys, I thought it was funny.

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_Prompt: Sleep Cute on Train_

So, Elsa's a pretty tolerant person. Really, she is. She loves people, and animals, and the wilderness, and the world. She loves her parents, her cousin, her aunt and uncle, her friend Kristoff and his dog, her kinda-sorta-adopted-baby seal named Olaf. She likes chocolate, and ice cream, and chocolate ice cream, and is always happy when the lunch trolley on the train has juice in her favourite flavour (grape, by the way). She can deal with people using up all the luggage racks even if really you shouldn't be hauling around three huge suitcases if you're a tiny five-footer, and people who talk too loudly on their phones, and people stealing her parking space in the yard. It's cool. Totally. She can even breathe-in-breathe-out her way around people who think that she's a dumb slut because she happens to be blonde and female and gay and bitch please if you open your mouth one more time I am going to smack you so hard your teeth are going to shatter-

Anyway. Point is, Elsa can normally put up with quite a bit. She's cool like that. So, yeah, she likes her personal space, and generally people actually touching her is normally panic-attack time, but hey, it's totally okay, this is a train, it's public, there are conductors with handcuffs and nightsticks and stuff, you really shouldn't be screaming. It also sorta helps that the redhead currently nestling into her shoulder, apparently unable to tell that Elsa's sort of having a minor case of hyperventilation, is pretty and cute and has an adorable dash of freckles, and in other circumstances Elsa might chat her up, get her phone number, put aside her anxiety long enough to maybe reach out and shake her hand, all that jazz.

But oh my god: she's _**drooling Elsa's favourite jacket**_.

Elsa later learns between huge heaving breaths and some emergency inhaler that the girl's name is Anna, and that she's been waiting outside of the medical carriage flapping her arms in a panic, despite the fact that her eye's starting to purple and swell and she more or less looks like a very ginger racoon.

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_Prompt: Coffee Order Loquaciousness_

So, blondie, you know there's like, a menu, right? I mean, no offence, you're super hot and all, and I can't help but think that I'd be a lot madder right now if it wasn't for the ass in front of me that's sort of doing this weird kind of twitching as you shift from foot to foot in thought, but seriously, girl, the list of available coffees are right up there above the tiller's head, and there's only so much patience I can spare on a sweet piece of leather-clad gluteus maximus before the lack of coffee starts driving me insane.

Seriously, though, pick now please: filter, cappuccino, or latté. There's like, three choices. It's six in the goddamn morning, nobody needs tea at this moment, please make up your mind because tea and coffee are pretty much antonyms in the great dictionary of café consumables, and just get the milk, you look amazing, some full cream isn't going to ruin that rocking bod any time soon.

And hey, we must have some kind of telepathic connection which I really hope isn't linked through your butt, because you must've heard me, since you ultimately decide to just go with some good ol' filter black, and, yeah, it tastes like garbage, but hey, nobody's a coffee connoisseur this early in the day. So, now that we've got that out of the way, maybe I should go over there and introduce myself, introduce myself, go all "Hey, I'm Anna, want some breakfast coffee and sandwiches?", and it's sounding like a good idea-

Dude, did you seriously just pull out a coin purse filled with nothing but dimes and quarters to pay for a $3 coffee?

FFFFFFFFFUUUUUUU-

* * *

_Prompt: Haunted Apartment Neighbour Refugee_

There aren't any ghosts in there. That apartment is absolutely, completely, without a doubt normal. Nothing supernatural or spectral happening here. The entire building is as exorcised of spirits as can be. The only demons in that room are the ones she brought with her, when she came back from the war. The only poltergeists are the phantom screams preying on her mind at night, the cries and wails and silences of the dying and the dead, lying in stretchers all around the medical pavilion, missing limbs, charred from burns, bleeding out in crimson rivers…

But hey, you understand. You've been there. You know what it's like. To be thrust into a situation you were completely unprepared for. And, yeah, maybe you were just a grunt in the back lines manning the big artillery guns, and you were away from the bulk of the action, and you didn't have to deal with the unfortunates in the front lines, and you didn't have to patch up the wounds of the poor saps drafted into that mess so that they could go back out there and fight another man's war, or have to sigh and shake your head and call over one of the agitated undertakers to take this corpse out to be tossed into the mass grave with all the others… but you don't see your lieutenant's head explode into a gory mess of blood and bone, have brain splatter on your dusty, dirty helmet, watch the horror and atrocities of your fellow men without at least some understanding of what she's going through.

So you open your door, take her hand, walk her back to your room, and curl up with her in your bed until the shaking stops, the sobbing quietens, the panicked gulping slows to smaller, manageable sighs. And blonde hair mixes with auburn as the two of you toss and turn and seek the solace in the other's embrace as the ghostly screams of the past reverberate in your memories.

* * *

_Prompt: Impromptu Escape from Justice Blowjob Tax_

"So, who's the bigger whore in this equation right now?" she wonders as she wipes her mouth with a handkerchief she stole out of her glove compartment. "Cus I totally just went down on you as payment, but I'm giving you cash in return."

The other girl's still trying to catch her breath after that mind-blowing orgasm, and trying not to think too hard about how she might have ruined the upholstery of her backseat, and that it would be really awkward if the police managed to track down her car, parked as it was in a back alley, wedged uncomfortably between a dumpster and a fire escape. Because while she can sort of kind of deal with the fallout of harbouring a self-confessed bank robber and the duffel bags of cash she's thrown into the trunk, she's not entirely sure she wants to get pulled out her car at gunpoint and handcuffed when her pants are somewhere underneath the driver's seat and her panties are still around her ankles.

The redhead continues, not really expecting an answer apparently, as she licks her lips to catch any lingering stickiness. She makes a face at the taste.

"I mean, yeah, I can't say that I normally have to dish out muffdiving as payment for subbing as my getaway vehicle, but in my defence I didn't think my original driver would be such a pussy who can't sit still through a little gunfire. Still, I suppose I _did_ promise you some of the cash in those bags, so hey, we're both getting something out of this, right? I don't go to prison, and you get a health boost to your wallet. Fair's fair, right? Although that does leave something out in this equation, I guess."

And with that, the redhead leans back, struggling awkwardly to find leg room in the cramped back seat, since the blonde is still sorta sprawled there with her legs splayed open and her the golden curls in between glistening happily in the cheap light of the neon motel sign outside. Still, the redhead manages to fold herself almost in two as she slips her pants and underwear off, before grinning and moving back over to the blonde's side of the backseat.

"So, I'm hoping that you deliver some with that cute tongue of yours, then I'll slap some cash in your hand, you drive me home, and then boom bam, business concluded, I'm outta your life, and you don't have to worry about the po-po catching you with a criminal. Sound good?"

The blonde manages to find her voice long enough to be sceptical.

"What, just like that?"

The redhead's blue eyes sparkle mischievously in the poor light.

"Well, no. Depending on your performance, I may just give you a cash bonus, as well as drag you into bed with me when we get back to my house, where I'll ride you so hard that you won't feel your thighs for a week."

**Fin**

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A/N: I may or may not continue to follow this up with more drabbles. It honestly depends entirely on how much of my garbage you peeps are willing to put up with. Although, if you do have any prompts, feel free to drop them over at my Tumblr. Until then, take care y'all! Catch ya later!


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